


need your loving

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 11:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was always easier to fall with Zayn pressed to his side, he supposes.





	need your loving

**Author's Note:**

> them pre grammy gala feels bro

He sees Zayn with a glass of whiskey, standing near the back of the club. Harry’s not sure what he was expecting; seeing Zayn here wasn’t exactly chance but it still feels surprising, watching him sip lazily on his whiskey and chatter with a woman whose laugh is a little too loud. The bright blue lights fall against the high points of his face, gleaming on his skin.

His smile stretches thin over his mouth, and whatever he says makes the woman laugh harder.

For a while, he doesn’t approach Zayn, rum and coke glued to his hand as he makes his rounds, congratulating the winners and making small talk with them.

But then he spots Zayn again at the bar and with a slow breath and a spot is sudden confidence, Harry approaches him.

“Congratulations on the win,” Zayn says immediately, as soon as Harry reaches him and then turns, taking a sip of his refilled drink.

“Well deserved, mate,” he continues, taking another leisurely sip, eyes trained on Harry.

It doesn’t feel like being reunited; it feels like a pricking sensation, as if something crawled inside the pit of Harry’s stomach, the itch growing with each sip Zayn takes, with each blink and half smile, sharp and clever, gracing Zayn’s mouth.

“Thanks,” Harry replies as Zayn sets down his empty glass and for a moment, Harry thinks Zayn’s leaving.

Instead, he motions to Harry with a wave of his hand and slips through the masses of people crowding the club.

Harry follows.

They end up outside in the alley behind the club, chilly winds picking up slightly as the door slams shut behind them.

Harry watches as Zayn fishes out a cigarette and lights it, mouth pursed as he blows the smoke out.

“Bloody freezing,” Zayn laughs, raspy, as if something’s caught in his throat and then turns to Harry, offering him the cigarette.

Harry shakes his head.

“Never did smoke, did you?” Zayn exhales slowly and Harry shrugs.

The sky is dark and the ground is damp beneath his feet, the chill seeping into his suit and under his skin and yet, Zayn looks undisturbed, ridiculously long lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he smokes.

“It’s nice to see you.” Zayn turns away.  
Silence falls heavy from the sky.

“You look good,” Harry says when he manages to find his voice.

Zayn’s smile is crooked, one eyebrow raised slightly and then he laughs again, somewhat easier and brighter and Harry feels something terribly warm nab at his chest.

The itch begins to fade.

It’s always like this with Zayn; Harry works himself up, thinking Zayn would be cold and then Zayn proves him wrong with witty smiles and half laughs and Harry wonders why he was ever afraid.  
Seeing Zayn now, leaning against a concrete wall near a dumpster, cigarette balancing at the corner of his mouth, his eyes, shimmering in the moonlight, trained on Harry, makes it easier to fall again.

It was always easier to fall with Zayn pressed to his side, he supposes.

  
He feels content this way, despite the cold and the dumpster in their vicinity, close enough to Zayn that he can almost feel the heat radiating from him, can almost hear the steady thump of Zayn’s heart against his rib cage.

By chance, Harry glances at the sleeve of Zayn’s suit jacket, eyes catching the logo sewn on the cuff and absently reaches over to take a closer look.

“Looks cool,” he mumbles softly and briefly wonders if he should let go.

Zayn sniffs and then nods, but makes no move to shift away.

And as if the sudden burst of confidence that led him to Zayn tonight grows, Harry – heartbeat picking up barely – slips his fingers across Zayn’s wrist, sliding his hand down until his fingers can entwined with Zayn’s.

Zayn eyes don’t meet Harry’s but he looks at their hands where they’re attached with lidded eyes and then to the ground.

He squeezes slightly.


End file.
